Too Late to Apologize
by tiswillard
Summary: TAKEN OF THE M RATING. FINISHED, omg. Ficlet based on a cover of 'Apologize' originally by OneRepublic by New Atlantic and Charlotte Sometimes. Doug made a mistake. That's all I'm saying, as far as summaries go.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Literally, it's been a very long time since I've written anything worth reading as far as the Tom and Doug pairing go. I've started two one-shots, neither of which I really liked, so I left for a rainy day (ironic how it's rained all weekend). I have my drabbles, if you read those, but they're not quite as rewarding as actual one-shots. I might be abandoning LAtEotT and Vandalism for a while; we'll see how that plays out. Anyway, I introduce my first ficlet, which was inspired after I listened to the cover of Apologize (originally by OneRepublic) by Charlotte Sometimes and New Atlantic. youtubeee - watch?v4fdKUUcg1U . That one's a little different than the one I have on my iTunes, but that doesn't matter. Still pretty amazing. So, anyway, this is kind of a song-ficlet, using the same song for the whole thing. Hah . Lyrics, by the way, will all be posted at the beginning of the chapter, since I've had too many issues with trying to work around them. This'll be roughly three chapters, maybe four, with a verse in each chapter. There are three verses, so, we'll see how this works out. I am truly excited to write this. Oh, and sorry for the long authors note!**

_I'm holding on your rope,_

_Got me ten feet off the ground_

_I'm hearin' what you say but I just can't make a sound_

_You tell me that you need me_

_Then you go and cut me down, but wait_

_You tell me that you're sorry_

_Didn't think I'd turn around, and say..._

_It's too late to apologize, it's too late_

_I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late_

"I'm sorry," were the first words out of Doug's mouth when Tom answered the phone. Tom didn't dare say anything; he just stared determinedly at his television, trying not to say anything. "I know it was stupid, I shouldn't have done it. I don't know what happened Tommy, it was just-- I don't know. I know you probably don't want to forgive me but I need you to, Tommy. I didn't mean it, I swear to God; it was all emotionless fun. I wanted it to be you the whole time. Our fight was no excuse for me to do that-- Tommy, you there?"

'Don't call me Tommy,' Tom found himself wanting to say, but he couldn't manage to say anything. He let out a throaty noise that didn't resemble anything whatsoever, but Doug seemed to think that that was an okay sign to continue his apology.

"I'm so stupid, Tommy, please, please, _please_ forgive me," Doug said, sounding desperate at this point. "I don't know-- I, uhm, Tommy, you-- I need you, Tommy."

"No," was all Tom managed to say, completely aware of how lame of a response it was. "No," he repeated, as if it was intended.

"No, what?" Doug asked.

"You don't need me, you already proved that when you--"

"Tommy, I don't know what came over me! I was upset! I wanted to make you jealous, to make you-- I don't know. I know I shouldn't have done it, but I was drunk. I wasn't thinking," Doug said.

"You're never thinking, Doug," Tom retorted. Doug didn't answer. "I don't need your excuses, anyway."

"What am I supposed to do to make this better, then?" Doug asked. Tom could tell it in his voice that Doug was becoming aggravated with him by now. But, no, Tom wasn't just going to forgive him that easily. As a matter of fact, he might never forgive him this time. Doug deserved it after-- after... Tom couldn't bring himself to even think about what Doug had done.

"Nothing," Tom said finally. "Don't do anything. You can't do anything. It's over."

_Silence._

"_What?_" Doug asked, as if in need of clarification of what Tom had just said.

"It's over," Tom said, in a composed voice, if barely. Somewhere in there, he could feel a twinge of guilt. "Besides, you just call me and think I'd forgive you for-- for--"

"Don't say it," Doug said hoarsely. "If you say it--"

"You slept with someone else, Doug," Tom said, unsure of how he had just mustered up the strength to bring the closure in on him. Suddenly, he felt claustrophobic-- the walls were closing in on him. "You slept with a-- another man."

"What does the fact that it was another man have to do with anything," Doug said in a monotone, thus unable to form a question.

"Because, it was like, you always made it sound like I was the only other guy you ever had feelings for," Tom said quietly. "I have to go."

"No you don't--"

"I have to _go_," Tom said firmly. "I'll see you at work."

"Don't hang up," Doug ordered. "I'm not finished trying to make you try and forgive me--"

"No--"

"Yes, damnit. Fuck, Tom, I'm _sorry_, do I have to drive over to your apartment and get on my knees to make you understand how truly sorry I am?"

Tom kept his eyes averted forwards, still feeling as if the walls were closing in. Closer and closer. "I'm not appreciating the sexual innuendo, by the way."

"I didn't mean it like that," Doug said, sounding annoyed. "What the hell do I have to do? There has to be something."

"I already told you," Tom said, "there's nothing. It's over, Doug. Stop wasting your time. I have to go, still, Doug. Are you done yet?"

Tom heard a heavy sigh over the phone. "I'm sorry, Tom," Doug said, finally. "You have no idea."

"Fuck, Doug," Tom said, growing angrier by the moment, now feeling as if the ceiling was only an inch away from his head. "It's too late to apologize for this kind of shit. You don't just say 'oops, I made a mistake and slept with someone else!' and hope I accept it. It doesn't work like that here, Doug. I'm not sure where you came from, or whether that worked there, but, Doug-- just-- never mined. I've got to go. Bye."

With that, Tom hung up the phone, fighting off the urge to quite literally throw the phone across the room. Instead, he placed it with a shaky hand on the table. The only thing hanging up the phone had relieved him of was the fact that he was imagining the ceiling closing in on him. The feeling was gone now, but Tom still couldn't find himself completely assured that it wasn't just going to crash in on him any second. He didn't want to think about _it_, regardless of the fact he _had_ been thinking about it quite obsessively throughout the past two days. The fact he had just had a conversation with Doug _about _it was beyond questionable. Tom didn't know where half those angry words had come from, considering he had spent the last two days sulking about it. But, no, as soon as Doug said that first word into the phone, Tom found that he was completely outraged, irate, infuriated. There were no words to describe how he felt, considering he'd just went from sulking, to rage, to nausea in the past ten minutes.

Tom put his head between his knees, in an attempt to soothe his qualms. It didn't help, and he ended up just staying there until he felt light-headed. He forced himself to sit up, leaning against the back of the couch. He only felt worse now, the nausea doubled by the fact that Tom was suddenly exhausted, as if his putting his head between his knees was a rather tiring task. He made no move to walk towards his bedroom, where he could lay in a somewhat comfortable position. Instead, he just extended himself on the couch, wrapping his arms around himself. Sleep was almost instantaneous, and Tom fell into a deep, dreamless sleep he wouldn't wake from until five thirty the next morning, marking twelve and a half hours of sleep.

"So, Hanson, Penhall-- are you ready to go over to South tomorrow morning?" Fuller asked, eyeing them suspiciously. Tom had an inkling of an idea that Fuller had noticed his sourness towards Doug.

"I think Penhall should work with Ioki for this next case," Tom said bluntly. "He might feel, uh, more, I don't know, appreciative towards Ioki than he would me?"

Tom felt the glare of the four other people in the room, but chose to ignore it. Eventually, Fuller spoke.

"Well, if you're _that_ opposed to working with Penhall, are you two up for it?" The question was directed to Doug and Ioki. Ioki muttered something resembling a sure; he would have been more grateful for a case, seeing as he had been on desk duty for the past few weeks, but Tom's behavior was puzzling him. Doug, however, neglected to answer Fuller as he continued to gape at Tom. "Penhall?"

"Uh, sure," Doug said, returning to reality. Fuller's eyes stayed on him for a second, before scanning the rest of the room.

"Alright, Judy, you're off to school, and the rest of you are stuck here for the rest of the day," Fuller said. "You can go." Everyone made a move to leave, Tom behind them all. "Except for you, Tom, I want you to stay here." Somehow, Tom had been expecting this, so he sunk back in his chair, and stared at Fuller intently, who watched the door closely, as if it would help close it. Finally, when Doug slammed the door behind him, Fuller returned his gaze to Tom. "I want to know what's going on, Hanson."

_Yea, well my useless ex-boyfriend decided it would be perfectly fine if he went and had an affair with another man, just because we had a disagreement._

What the hell was he supposed to say?

"Hanson."

"Nothing's going on," Tom said distractedly, pursing his lips.

"Because it's completely normal for you and Penhall to completely avoid each other and for you to make sideways remarks about him?" Fuller asked with a raised eyebrow. "Tell me the truth, Hanson. Spend no time lying, I'll know the truth when I hear it."

"Nothing's going on," Tom said, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're just going through a little tough spot, y'know?"

"Yeah-huh," Fuller said, staring at Tom, who was now avoiding eye contact. "Okay. You can go, but next time you step into this office, you and your problem with Penhall better be straightened out."

"Yes sir," Tom mumbled, making his way out of the office as quickly as he could without sprinting. As he shut the door behind him, he knew that Fuller had let him off easy. Obviously, he hadn't been lying, per se, just hadn't told the whole truth.

"I need to talk to you." The tone the words were said in was actually kind of frightening.

"No," Tom said, as if the single-syllable word was the answer to all of his problems.

"I don't care." With that, Doug grabbed the shoulder of Tom's shirt (and some miniscule part of him took notice of how far away that was from his hand), and pulled him towards the stairs. "I need to talk to you, and I'm not trying to apologize here, Tom, I... just... _need_... to talk to-- fuck, Tom, _move_!"

"Fine," Tom said, relaxing his resistance as he allowed Doug to pull him up the stairs, although grudgingly. "What do you want?" he asked as he reached the top of the stairs, pretending to busy himself with something in his locker.

"What the fuck was that?" Doug said, almost growled, actually.

"What was what?" Tom asked innocently. Doug was silent behind him, and he took the first opportune moment to swing the locker closed, spin Tom around, and pin him up against it.

"Yeah, thanks Tom, for advertising it to the whole world," he said in a low tone.

"I didn't advertise it," Tom said, flinching at the awkwardly avoided closeness of their bodies. "I didn't say, 'hey, guess what! Penhall here cheated on me!' No, Penhall, they just know that we're fighting, and as far as Fuller knows, we're going through 'a tough time'."

"So that's what you told him?" The pressure of Doug's hands was lessened, if only a little bit.

"Yes," Tom said. "Contrary to what you're probably thinking, I'm just as ashamed for you as you are for yourself."

"Still," Doug began, talking through his teeth, "try to seem a little bit more discreet about our said 'dispute'."

"I'll consider it," Tom said, suddenly aware of how hard, for once, it was to keep eye contact with Doug. "In the meantime, why don't you let me down?"

"_I'll _consider it," Doug said, somehow managing to keep his glare staring into Tom's unfocused brown eyes.

"Penhall," Tom warned, starting to notice that his arms hurt where Doug put pressure into them.

"Where do you get off calling me Penhall, anyway, Tom? Far as I know, we've always been on a first-name basis," Doug said, his grip tightening once more. Tom flinched.

"Penhall--"

"_Hanson_--" (Tighter)

"Please--"

"What?"

"Doug, you're hurting me."

The use of his first name, and then the announcement that he was hurting him, even if accidental, seemed to lighten Doug. He immediately let go of Tom, his eyes no longer seeming so damned angry as they lingered on Tom's face for only a moment. Tom could have sworn he heard a muttered 'sorry', but for all he knew, he was imagining it. However, it didn't upset Tom as Doug left him by his locker, left alone to gather his own thoughts as Doug scrambled down the stairs, where he could do the exact same, only at his desk.

_"Doug?" Tom wondered if he ever came home. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. He couldn't' remember; he fell asleep rather early, anyway. Still, just like every other fight, Tom was ready to forgive Doug now. First, however, he would need to find him. Obviously, he wasn't in the bedroom-- and the next guess was the couch in the living room. "Dougie?"_

_There he was, completely passed out on the couch, facing inwards, towards the rough leather. Tom rounded the couch quietly, placing his hand softly on Doug's arm. "Hey," he said softly, knowing that if Doug was as passed out as he looked like he was, it would never wake up the other man. He shook his arm lightly, to no avail. Tom didn't want to _rush_ waking up Doug regardless, hence why he didn't raise his voice, nor did he shake Doug's arm any harder. "Wake up, Doug. I wanna talk to you."_

_"Go away," Doug said, sounding completely awake. It surprised Tom for a moment, before realizing that it actually had been Doug talking, that he hadn't been asleep. Doug had been ignoring him, and now Tom wanted more to know why Doug was sleeping on the couch, not in the bed._

_"Come on, Dougie," Tom said, trying to pull Doug so he was facing him. Doug pulled his arm, almost ferociously out of Tom's grip. There was a moment of silence. "Are you that mad?"_

_Doug was quiet for a moment, and his response wasn't nearly as well articulated as his order to make Tom go away, even though it was a pretty simple word. "No."_

_The response took Tom off guard; he had a million ways on his mind to apologize for the fight last night, which had, overall, been his fault. No excuses, it was simply him who had, like a PMSing female, gotten mad at Doug for the smallest of reasons. "Then what's wrong?" The words sounded foreign on Tom's tongue; he didn't like not knowing what was going on in Doug's head._

_"Nothing," Doug said quickly. "Just go away."_

_"I'm staying right here until you tell me what's going on, Doug," Tom said, crossing his legs, as if that would announce his stubbornness. "Now, come on. Tell me what's up."_

_"Nothing," Doug said, pulling a blanket closer around him as he tried to push himself closer into the back of the couch. "I don't want to talk about it."_

_"You can tell me anything," Tom insisted, putting is hand on Doug's arm. "Now, come on."_

_"Don't touch me," Doug said quickly, pulling away. "And I told you, I don't want to talk about it."_

_Tom stared at the ground, trying to think of a better way to approach this, if there was one. His eyes traveled from his bare feet, to Doug's crumpled pants that were laid in a pile on the ground. Tom's shoes were sitting to the right of him, next to each other; Doug's shoes were at Tom's other side, two feet in between the shoes. Tom's eyes faltered back to the pants, where he noticed a folded piece of paper sticking out of the pocket. Suspiciously, he reached forwards, pulling out the strip of folded notebook paper._

Call me!

_A series of numbers followed the obviously masculine handwriting, and for a moment, Tom couldn't tell what to make of them._

_"Doug--"_

_"What?"_

_"What is this?" Tom asked, his voice barely audible. "Call me?" Doug was uncomfortably quiet at this, apparently knowing what Tom had found. Tom's mind raced furiously, trying to find the meaning of the note. First of all, the handwriting was a guys, second of all Doug kept it, third of all-- "No. You didn't."_

_Doug was quiet at this, and Tom couldn't figure out whether he was enraged or about to cry. "Did you? Yes or no."_

_"Yes," his voice croaked eventually, after an uncomfortably long silence._

_And it was just like that. It felt as if the world should explode, like that simple word 'yes' should be the trigger for some apocalyptic event. Tom was braced for it all; spontaneous combustion, an asteroid to burst through the ceiling and pin him into the earth. A volcano under the apartment building that was only discovered as it first erupted, right then. Perhaps a fatal disease that killed you the moment it reached you to just sort of float through the window? A tsunami, a hurricane that somehow reached them? Earthquake, tornado, anything? It didn't matter; a fucking 'April fools!' would be sufficient at the moment._

_"Okay," Tom said, unsure of what he himself meant by that. "I'm going to work."_

_It was the only thing he could think to say. What he had said hadn't registered in his brain at first, and he ended up just staring at the back of Doug for a moment. He had to get out of there, it was obvious enough. However, for that moment, any means of escape were above him. It took him a second longer to remember that a door was the idea way to leave the apartment. And within a second, he was running out of there._

Tom woke abruptly, unsure of how he had let himself get that far into the dream without waking up. He hadn't needed to be there again. He hadn't needed to relive it. He hadn't needed it, period. Yet, somehow, he had been there, in a matter of speaking, and he had relived it. Because he didn't quite want to sit in bed and drown in his own thoughts, he sauntered off to the bathroom, noticing the digital clock, the only light in the room, announcing that it was three in the morning. How nice-- now he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again.

The light in the bathroom was half-blinding, and Tom had to sit on the lowered toilet seat, squinting at the wall, until the fluorescent lightbulb didn't seem to want to burn his corneas out. Rubbing his eyes, he was frustrated to find they were wet, even if just a little, even if it had nothing to do with the fact he might have been crying in his sleep. Goddamn, he'd been so sure he wouldn't cry over Doug. Not this time; Doug wasn't worth it if he was just going to cheat on him and try to just apologize for it. That was enough. Other than the fact that his eyes were annoyingly wet, he noticed how amazingly bloodshot they were once he stood to examine himself in the mirror. He actually couldn't help but gape at himself for a moment, before having the sense to look away from himself, as a result, splashing water in his face. Not that it would help his bloodshot eyes, but it helped something, evidently.

The water on his face (oh, so _that's_ why his eyes were wet, hm?) helped him conclude that he was in need of a shower. Stripping on the spot, he turned the knob of the water and waited for it to get as hot as it would possibly go. Satisified, he stepped inside the water, where he could drown his thoughts, his worries, even if only for ten minutes.

**A/N: Please don't kill me. 3 I am the worst fangirl ever. xD**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Still thoroughly excited to write it, though no longer at the point where I squeal every time I think about it. Heh. I think I should let it be known now, albeit my being a Johnny Depp fangirl, I enjoy writing in Doug's perspective far more than I do Tom's. I don't really know why, maybe Penhall and I have something in common and I haven't realized it yet. -thinks- Actually, yes, I have quite a lot in common with Doug, and only one thing that jumps out at me as far as things in common with Tom. Also, I don't like how this chapter is way shorter than the first one.**

_I'd take another chance, take a fall_

_Take a shot for you_

_And I need you like a heart needs a beat_

_But it's nothin' new_

_I loved you with a fire red-_

_Now it's turning blue, and you say..._

_"Sorry" like the angel heaven let me think was you_

_But I'm afraid..._

_It's too late to apologize, it's too late_

_I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late_

Well, it wasn't like Tom hadn't done these things just because he'd felt like playing a 'friendly prank' on Doug. It was more of a desperate cry for revenge, and quite frankly, Tom had every reason in the world to have done what he had done for the past two weeks. Doug wasn't even going to try and convince himself that everything Tom was doing had been reckless, stupid fun, just to get back at him. Doug found himself being sensible for once, knowing that if it had been Tom who had cheated on Doug, he would be doing the same exact things. However, Doug had this little nagging feeling in the back of his head that said that Tom would never cheat on him, and, if anything, that hurt and nagged quite a lot. Needless to say, Doug was still feeling quite guilty for what he had done.

Tom had slowly began calming down, which was either a Godsend or something completely unfortunate. He avoided contact more than anything, but it wasn't a desperate dodging attempt-- as far as Doug could tell at least. Now, it simply seemed that Tom was sick of trying to get back at Doug, possibly because all it was getting him was-- (Revenge? Pride? Something good?) well, nothing at all. At least, that's how it seemed eventually. Still, although Doug had, with open arms (in a matter of speaking), allowed Tom to get back at him in the most Tom-ish ways you could possibly imagine-- it had all been quite annoying. There were always those accidental slips in conversation-- something implying Doug might be more comfortable with "another man" (always the men, of course), always the emphasis on the name _Penhall_. Once, even-- only God knew how-- Tom had managed to mention 'cheating on significant others' in a conversation. Only Thomas Hanson managed to do this; making Doug feel so damn bad, with only emphasis on words. _Cheating, unfaithful, incompassionate. _The list was undeniably extensive.

At one point, Tom had actually tripped Doug. It was apparent then that Tom was getting bored of what he had been doing, or was just simply running out of new ideas. There was always the chance that having tripped Doug was completely accidental. Of course, Doug must not get his hopes up. The only thing that happened after the tripping was that Tom had almost completely stopped everything. Either that, or Doug was just getting used to it all. Of course, Tom still called him Penhall (and, eventually, Doug had broken down his resistance of continuing to call him Tom, and began to call him Hanson), but the words no longer had the emphasis they had at first. For a moment, Doug had stopped and wondered, _could he really have gotten over me that fast? No_, he realized, Tom was just going for a different tactic. Battle tactic, if you may.

The just being an acquaintance (an acquaintance with quite a lot of problems with you, at that) was, overall, much more annoying than Tom's original take on insulting him. Being away from Tom, no matter how much it got him a break from the awkward conversations he had to slip away from, just reminded Doug that there was no chance with Tom anymore. He would never accept his apology. At least Tom had been making an attempt to communicate with him at first.

Only Tom Hanson.

And Judy and Ioki-- did they honestly have to feel so obliged to but into their personal lives? Yes, Doug appreciated their being close friends. Yes, Doug appreciated the fact that, no matter what, as long as it had to do with Tom and Doug's relationship (or what was left of it), Ioki and Judy never took sides. Albeit his inadvertent, possibly distant, appreciation of his friends, it was the fact that they _were_ his friends that was now bothering him. Close friends-- not just friends. Why did they have to be so damn close and have to know everything, anything that went on with them? Doug had realized, and only under the pressure of the current situation, that he would rather tell them anything else in the world, provided it disregarded their want to know what was going on. Well, maybe saying 'telling them _anything' _was a bit too close, but Doug wasn't ready-- and knew he never would be ready-- to announce to the world what he had done.

Fuller had seemed less inclined, for once, to get inside the lives of his officers. However, Doug had a nagging feeling that this all had to do with the conversation he had with Tom in his office the day they first came back to work, and knew that Fuller wasn't going to stop keeping a close eye on them for a very long time.

_Ding-dong_. Doug couldn't comprehend what the sound was or where it was coming from in his current state of mind. Instead, he just ended up staring blankly ahead of him, silently contemplating everything that had happened in the past week. Needless to say, it wasn't a very nice train of thought. _Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong._ Suddenly, Doug made the connection that the sound that sounded something similar to the sound that of _ding-dong_ may have been from his door.

It was rather surprising to find that Tom was the one standing opposite of his door. "We need to talk."

_Oh, so you finally get it?_ "What about?"

"Twenty guesses," Tom said, looking annoyed. "Let me inside."

"Why?" Doug asked. He didn't know why he was saying these words. Suddenly, he just needed to be angry-- and Tom happened to be the first person to almost quite literally walk in, begging for him to be angry at him.

"Doug," Tom frowned. At that, Doug couldn't resist. The use of his _first name_, from _Tom_. It had been, what? Two, three weeks since he'd heard Tom say his first name? Tom took advantage of the moment Doug didn't resist, pushing through the doorway. Doug shut the door behind him, however leaning against it and crossing his arms. "I thought about what you said. On the phone, a few weeks ago." Doug raised his eyes in surprise. "And about how I've been acting."

"Then you've been doing a lot of thinking, haven't you?" Doug mumbled sarcastically, trying to lighten the situation as always. Tom's face stayed sober, though he didn't speak. "What'd you come here for?"

"I-- I don't know," Tom said, averting his eyes to the floor. "I really don't know."

"Then I think you should leave," Doug said, stepping aside from the door. It's not like Doug really wanted Tom to leave; he just didn't want him here. Not here, not now. Not if there was nothing to be said, other than insults. Physical contact would be limited to nothing, except for maybe tripping. Kicking, even. Doug was sure he might be deserving of that, even if Tom did kick him he would be nothing short of infuriated.

"No," Tom retorted, scratching the back of his neck. Doug dropped his arms uselessly, from where he was pointing at the door. _Why not?_ he felt like saying, but didn't feel it was necessary to say. "Just-- just let me think for a moment."

Doug didn't answer, and began to watch Tom pace across the room, his index and middle finger covering his lips. Doug stared, as if it would help him understand what Tom was thinking. Did he want to know, though? Tom's thoughts must have been completely diabolic at the moment, and no, Doug decided firmly, he would never take the chance of asking Tom what he was thinking. His own thoughts raced desperately, trying to find a distraction from Tom's thoughts. The only thing he could lamely cling to was the thought that _maybe_ he should ask Tom if he wanted something to drink. It was only polite, of course, but that was half just begging to have something intentionally spilled on him, or some sort of food disposed of, on his head. Besides, Tom had spent the last few weeks before _that_ practically living here-- if he wanted anything, he should know where to find it.

But Tom was taking far too long to think, and Doug was growing uncomfortable, just leaning against his wall. He wanted to sit down, but part of him said that that might not be a good idea either. At this point, nothing seemed like a good idea-- Doug would rather not chance it.

"Okay," Tom said hoarsely, causing Doug's chin to snap up. He watching Tom intently, unsure of what the 'okay' implied, exactly. He found himself gnawing on his hand, actually. It was stupid that the okay implied something good, but Doug found he couldn't exactly sit here and pray to God that Tom might hit him. "We can't do this anymore."

It took Doug a moment to realize who had said it. The statement made no sense-- they weren't _doing_ anything. Nothing that that kind of statement was deserving of, anyway.

"The fighting, I mean," Tom amended his initial claim. Doug gaped at him.

"I wasn't the one fighting," Doug said simply. "Actually, I thought it was you who was taking shots at me every chance you got, simply because you were pissed off and wouldn't accept a sincere apology." Tom just stared at him, and suddenly, Doug realized how... _mean_ that had sounded, for lack of better adjective. "If anything, _Hanson_, you can't do this anymore. I'm not involved."

He sounded so mad. He hadn't felt like this yet (except for, perhaps, when Tom made that senseless connection with 'cheating on insignificant others' in work the other day), but suddenly, he felt as if he was ready to explode. And, oddly, as weird as it was to be mad-- _this_ mad at Tom, Doug kind of liked it. He didn't care about what Tom might think afterward. He didn't care about anything much at all right now, actually. Other than the fact that he was senselessly angry.

"Doug--"

"What happened to Penhall?" Doug asked, just for a retort. "I was kind of getting used to that, you know."

"Why do you--" Tom's voice trailed off. Doug stared at him, knowing that if looks could kill, he might be the perfect example at the the moment. "Never mind. I'll leave. Coming here was a mistake."

"No," Doug said, standing in front of the door. "You came here to say something, Hanson. Say it."

Inexplicably, Doug found himself annoyed by the fact Tom didn't respond. Had he lost his nerve? What the hell had happened, that Tom had so suddenly decided to try and sort of be nice, if that's even what he was doing? The most confusing part about this, above all, was mostly just the fact that this in itself was what was angering him so much. He wanted Tom to get angry with him, above all. Right now, Tom was just moping, staring at him. Goddamn, Doug needed Tom so bad to be just as mad as he was right now.

"I have to go," Tom said quietly, taking a step towards Doug.

"I don't care," Doug said stubbornly, crossing his arms. A voice in the black of his mind reminded him of how childish he seemed, but he blew the reminder away. "Why'd you come here?"

"Doug, just let me leave," Tom said, his voice louder now. Well, at least it was some improvement, even if it didn't promise that Tom wasn't about to blow up, and really give Doug something to fight about.

"Tell me why you came first." Doug realized he was becoming less angry, and he quite honestly didn't like that, didn't _want_ that. Not at all. However, he couldn't exactly just trigger a forced anger upon himself, no matter how much he tried. Hopefully, Tom would get angry. Why did Doug want such a reason to yell at him anyway? And in this realization, he had completely missed Tom's next words, and he was only aware that Tom was staring _through_ him, rather than at him. "What?"

"I said," Tom said, looking as if he were tripping over his own words, "that I'm sorry."

Doug didn't know how he should respond to this; should he be angry, because _fuck,_ suddenly all of the things Tom did no longer seemed excusable? Should he hug Tom and tell him its okay? Part of him was shocked. He was the one who should be sorry, and he had told Tom that-- multiple times, at that. And Tom had never accepted his apology, no matter how desperate it was. And then it occurred to Doug exactly how he should be feeling.

"Sorry?" It was the only word Doug could manage to make, being too dumbfounded and overcome by emotion. Tom just stared at him. "You're _sorry_?"

"Yea," Tom said, although it was hardly audible. The only thing that made the syllable slightly coherent was the fact that Tom had accompanied it with a nod. "I said I'm sorry."

"So you mean to say," Doug said after great hesitation, "that you came here to apologize to me, in hopes that I would accept that apology? ...In spite of the fact that you actually never accepted my own apology in the first place?" Tom looked as if Doug had just slapped him across the face. "No, I don't think so, Tom."

Tom opened his mouth, but no response came out. Doug took it as a fine sign that he should continue his own rant, but found he had no words even to express his anger. And physically hurting Tom-- even that was out of the question.

"What you did, Doug, was unforgivable," Tom said in a small, yet somehow steady voice. Both of them seemed equally surprised at the sound of his voice. "What I did is something you can accept the apology to because-- quite frankly, Doug, I didn't _sleep_ with another man just because I was _drunk_ and a little mad at you."

Suddenly, Tom was standing directly in front of Doug. Neither of them were quite sure how he got there, but he just _was_. However, that didn't matter. What did matter was that they were suddenly infuriated with each other, and the electricity that the closeness between them was making it worse.

"Well, maybe if you'd been a little bit more understanding--"

"What was there to understand, Doug? That you're a liar, you lied every time you said you loved me, that you never cared--"

"Just because I-- I--" Doug slowed down. "Just because I did that never meant I never loved you or cared about you." _As a matter of fact, I never stopped._

"Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it, Penhall."

"Well, I'm sorry."

"I'm glad."

"That-- that I-- that we're--" Doug couldn't find the words to express whatever was going on at the moment.

"I'm just glad that you're sorry," Tom shot back. "It proves that, maybe, there is something that is slightly human about you."

"What I did was completely human, Tom!" Doug found himself shouting now.

"Yeah?" Tom said, his voice raising along with Doug's. "So what's so human about cheating on me, anyway?"

"I make mistakes, everybody does," Doug said, wondering if it was possible that his voice could cover the whole musical scale in one sentence. It sure seemed like it just had. "That's what makes me human."

Doug expected to hear some half-assed remark like, _Well, then I don't like humans, _but then he remembered who he was talking to. Tom. Tom would never say anything like that, not ever. The argument just silenced for the moment, Tom standing a foot away from him. They avoided eye contact; any contact at all, and they were both prepared to take a step back. It was painful, and it was the most awkward pregnant silence either of them had ever found themselves caught up in.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: WELL SHIT. This took me a month and a half to write and I'm still not sure if I like it. It's being moved off the M-rating, as I caked-out (not sure what that means, um...) and decided to change the ending. Hope it was worth it? I'm liking the way I ended it, but I'm not at the same time. Does that make sense?**

_It's too late to apologize, it's too late_

_I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late_

_It's too late to apologize, yeah_

_I said it's too late to apologize, yeah-_

_I'm holdin on your rope, got me ten feet off the ground..._

"One of us has to say something eventually."

However true Doug's words deemed themselves to be, neither of them seemed entirely determined to actually live up to saying any words. There was nothing they could say, nothing left to say. Not anymore. It was done. It was over, that was it. (No, it wasn't.)

"Or one of us has to leave."

Tom's words were also true. Doug also conceived them as a challenge.

"It's my house," he pointed out.

A barely audible, "I never said I was leaving, though," escaped Tom's lips. Doug couldn't tell whether or not he had actually heard it, so they both remained in silence.

"Listen, Doug," Tom said after another five minutes. "I guess this is sort of a roundabout way of saying it, but do you understand why I have to... I have to be a bitch to you, not accept your apology, but apologize to you? Because, it's-- it's not easy for me, either. And I feel like an idiot saying all of this."

"You're not an idiot," Doug sighed, glad that they were done with the awkward silences. At least temporarily.

"Thanks for the self-esteem booster." Tom opened his mouth, looking like he was about to continue his mini speech. However, seemingly at a loss for words, he closed his mouth again, and Doug took this as his chance to attempt to apologize for the umpteenth time.

"Now I get to make myself sound like an idiot. Tom, I know I made a mistake. A stupid one at that, and I knew I shouldn't have done it and I wasn't thinking and it was stupid and you don't deserve all this shit I put you through, and now that I think about it you never deserved me in the first place but that's besides the point--" Doug gradually gained speed in what he was saying, creating a rather long run on sentence. He had to calm himself down before continuing. After a deep breath, he felt he had gathered enough of his composure to go on. "I guess I'd kind of like to ask if it's going to be okay, but it's not, because I know we'll never be the same. I know we can't be what we were, whatever that even was. I ruined it, and that's my fault. I guess it would be kind of out of place if I said I loved you right now, and good luck."

Both of their hearts dropped at the same time; there it was. Finalized. The end. Nothing more. The thought of it taunted them both.

"I guess I better go," Tom said after a moment. Doug knew he had no choice but to let him go, as Tom was already walking towards the door. He himself stepped away from it to allow Tom his space. It didn't really register to him that Tom was leaving, not yet. All he was thinking about was what he had just said. His mind raced, his thoughts seemingly unable to focus on any one coherent thought. Doug had no idea what to think right now. He didn't want to think, when it came right down to it.

He was only vaguely aware of the door shutting softly behind him.

The couch must have found it's own way under him, since he sure as hell hadn't gone and found it by himself. He collapsed, unintentionally, the weight of his words coming down on him.

He wondered if what he thought had just happened had really taken place. It seemed almost as if it was dream. And he couldn't follow Tom out of his door, not without seeming desperate. All he was now left with was the weight out of the world, which seemed to revolve around him in an all-negative way.

His eyes began shutting as he fell further into the couch. He wasn't falling asleep, he was just drifting.

* * *

They had gotten in a stupid fight. Tom had gotten pissed off at Doug for doing something, but Doug couldn't remember what. Doug could never remember what their fights had been about. He wondered if that was a bad thing, but that was besides the point. Doug had, eventually, just left the apartment. He couldn't stand to be there while Tom was yelling at him. It was just impossible for him to bear the sound of Tom Hanson screaming at him when he was angry.

So he had driven around on his motorcycle for a while, not exactly sure where to go. When the neon sign had appeared in his line of vision, it was suddenly rather apparent what he had to do. There was no question about it at all; he just had to drink his pain away.

He had stumbled into the bar, already sort of feeling like he was drunk, if that was possible. The bar was half-empty. It was a bit early, but there were local barhoppers slowly crowding inside of it. Doug had sat himself in a corner booth, eating peanuts and drinking beers. He tried to pay attention to whatever they were watching TV, only he couldn't seem to focus in onto the dry comedy. Usually he loved that kind fo stuff, but tonight was just different.

He had left, eventually. When it had gotten too crowded, he just felt as if he couldn't be there anymore. Besides, there were plenty of bars that he could go to in this part of town. He'd be fine. He was a cop enough, however, to know not to drive when he was as drunk as he was. He wasn't going to risk his badge over a DUI, even if it was over Tom. He'd eventually found a bar that looked fairly empty. He supposed now that he probably should have taken a better look at the sign, at the promotional posters in the window, which would have clearly deemed it as a gay bar. Maybe if it hadn't have been a gay bar, he wouldn't have ever had to find himself in this stupid current situation that he was practically dying to get out of.

It really didn't matter so much, considering he was in fact gay, or bisexual, or something. The thing was, there was just Tom in his life. All there had ever been was Tom - at least when it had to do with guys. Sure, it wasn't like he'd never been to a gay bar before. With Tom, just for fun. Consequently, going to a gay bar right now just wouldn't have sounded like a good idea to him even then.

He had sat, isolated in the corner again. He didn't call him over, the guy had just come over.

"Hey," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Demitri."

Doug had smiled, convinced he wouldn't talk. He was too friendly, however, and ended up mumbling a 'hi' to the man anyway.

"You here alone?" Demitri asked. Doug nodded, keeping his eyes down at the beer he was drinking. Demitri was suspiciously quiet for a moment before asking, "what's wrong, honey?"

And that was when he suddenly realized that he was in a gay bar. It was just what Demitri had said to him-- when Doug actually took the time and looked around him, he realized that there was, strangely, a drag queen dancing in the center of the room, and a pair of lesbians on top of each other at a nearby table.

"Huh," Doug muttered, confident that he'd only said it loud enough so that he could hear it. 'What a fucking trip." He hesitated, before turning Demitri and actually speaking directly to him. "I have to go," Doug said, standing up. He wasn't trying to be rude, or seem homophobic, or something. He wasn't homophobic, couldn't be homophobic, but the statement made him feel like he was. Demitiri had given him puppy dog eyes, something that _Tom_ and only _Tom_ should have been doing. But Doug fell for it anyway. He sat back down and looked at the man sitting across from him. A second ago Doug had been thinking he _had_ to leave, because it was a gay bar. Something about that just seemed worse, but now it just didn't seem like too bad of an idea. Demitri looked like an okay guy - not that Doug could exactly judge by looks and the incomplete sentences they'd exchanged, but as he examined him, Doug decided that he could tolerate the man's presence. He was skinny, like Tom. Brown hair, like Tom. Short hair, unlike Tom. Big brown eyes that could coax him into anything, like Tom. Fuck, he looked nothing like Tom, but those small insignificant similarities were what seemed to keep him there.

And soon it became hard to think about leaving, because Demitri kept insisting on buying him drinks. Eventually, Doug found himself so intoxicated that he could barely think straight. He could barely remember what had happened, actually. He remembered constantly laughing at Demitri's jokes and antics, however, who he had no doubt was just being stupid to get his attention. And even though he didn't remember the rest of what had really happened that night, he did remember leaving with Demitri.

"Want to get some fresh air, sweetie?" Demitri had asked. Doug had made himself believe that it was just something in Demitri's eyes that had caused him to wink at him. Because, otherwise, why would he?

"Sure, great idea!" Doug had replied, as he willed himself out of his seat drunkenly. However, struggling on his own feet, the only thing that really kept him walking was Demitri as he ran to his side to aid him. Doug thanked him with a smile, just then noticing how peculiar it was that Demitri hadn't had a drink that he could recall all night.

They had gone through the doors with their arms around each other's waist, what Doug thought was really more out of necessity as he was too shit-faced to walk. Their departure from the bar was followed by cat-calls, something that Demitri explained as coming from his friends who had had initially come with.

Doug didn't want to remember the rest of what had happened, but he sort of did. The cool air, despite the fact it really wasn't that cold outside, caused Demitri to wrap his arms around Doug. Doug was just thankful for the body heat, and had snuggled into Demitri's grip. He must have taken it the wrong way, because one thing led to another, and they were eventually sucking face just beside what Doug supposed had been Demitri's car. Things just went downhill from there.

* * *

"Fuck," Doug hissed, snapping himself out of the memory. Blinking his eyes, he contemplated what to do. He wanted-- needed to talk to Tom. That was just a given, if he was going to solve any of this. They needed to agree on something, they needed closure. A proper goodbye, even, if it came to be that. Of course, that's definitely not what Doug was rooting for, but at this point, it would be better than nothing. Maybe 'proper goodbye' wasn't the right term, as what had just happened between them may have been considered as just that or at least something similar, but it just didn't feel like they were doing the right thing.

_Knock, knock, knock._

"It's open!" Doug called. Nothing responded. Doug turned his head to look at the door he just hadn't missed someone coming in. It was still closed, and no one was in his apartment. Rolling his eyes, Doug forced himself off the couch and to the front door. His feet padding softly against the hardwoood, he grumbled nonsense to himself. Reaching the door, he grasped the handle. As the door creaked open, Doug was greeted only by the site of an empty hallway. Rolling his eyes, he stepped out into the hallway. No one. What an ass. Turning on his heel, he stepped back into his apartment. Just as he was about to shut the door again, someone called his name.

"Wait--" the voice said. "Doug, hold on."

Doug froze in midstep - he didn't need a genius to tell him whose voice that was. Swallowing, trying to regain his composure. He wasn't sure if he could face Tom now, not after reliving what had happened that night. Sure, he had been subconsciously been planning when he next wanted to talk to Tom, but none of it really involved right now. Consequently, it was silent for a while, but Doug didn't hear anyone leave. Finally, he turned around to face Tom.

No one said anything. They stood an awkward two feet away from each other, Doug clad in only a pair of boxers and an over-sized t-shirt, even for him. Tom wore dirty jeans and an old sweatshirt. Even Doug couldn't help but feel a little out of place here.

"Listen, Doug - I, I don't know why I reacted that why. I mean, over the past however long it's been since... _that. _I was jealous, I guess. I mean, why wouldn't I be jealous? But even that was overreacting, because, you know, I'm not five. And I wanted - want, I mean... to work through things, but I don't know how because - I don't know how and...." (Inside, Doug was grinning at Tom's inability to explain himself, which altogether seemed just very out-of-character for the other man, but still a side of Tom he liked seeing.)

"Why are you even apologizing?" Doug asked, as his mouth had just been left wide-open as he had been listening to Tom's mini-speech. "There's nothing for you to apologize about, Tom. I mean, I guess I'm not really one to admit something's my fault, but this is all mine. I can be an idiot sometimes, but what I did was, like... major idiocracy. I wasn't thinking, and I don't even know why I did that. I know I was kind of desperate on the phone that one time, but I guess it's kind of because I am. I mean, I'm trying to apologize for something that, quite honestly, shouldn't be forgiven. So I guess it would kind of make sense if you said that no way in hell would you ever let go of this, because I probably wouldn't. And maybe it's too much to ask for you to forgive me, but I'm doing it anyway. And, you know, I guess I would understand if you said no because-- wait, no, I said this already. So, I guess it's kind of a stupid time to mention it, but I love you and I never stopped even though you probably think I don't?"

Tom was silent, avoiding his eyes. "Tom, say something, please." _Nothing._ Letting his eyes stray to the floor, Doug continued. "I know I said all this earlier, sort of, anyway, but in a different mindset. But, Tom, I don't know what else there--"

The texture of Tom's lips were soon pressed against Doug's, taking him greatly by surprise. His arms wrapped around the other man on impact, although he was not initially aware of the correct way to react. As Tom's lips made rougher contact with his, however, the body heat practically unbearable and the chemistry exploding-- Doug realized that all there was to do was _kiss him back, asshole._

Tom was leaning into Doug, depending so heavily on his stance that Doug stumbled backwards, into his doorway. Although Doug didn't want to have to let go of Tom, he had to grasp onto the doorframe to keep Tom from knocking him to the ground. In the desperate battle of their lips trying to interlock, their tongues trying to make contact, Doug managed to remain standing and pull Tom even closer to him. Between the inadvertent moaning, Tom's hipbones pressing against Doug's, which created the most desirable friction, and Tom's prying hands tugging at the hair that covered the nape of Doug's neck, he realized just how much he missed this.

The aggressiveness increased with each passing moment until they were both left out of breath. Tom was enclosed in Doug's arms, his hands holding Doug's shirt in knots with his head leaning against Doug's shoulder. No one said anything for a while - there was only Doug playing Tom's hair and Tom pressing his hand against Doug's chest to hear his heartbeat.

"I'm sorry... I... shit. I mean, for what I did," Doug mumbled. Tom said nothing, but held himself closer.

After an extended silence, Tom finally drew his head off of Doug's shoulder, meeting the other's eyes.

"So, I guess we're okay." There was a smile tugging at the left side of Tom's mouth. Doug had to keep himself from leaning forward just to kiss him.

"Yea," Doug mumbled, both of their faces breaking out into simultaneous grins. "I think we're okay."

**fin.**

**a/n: I'm sorry if you don't like it. I'm not sure I do. halfway through it, I was like, hey, I have no idea how I'm going to fix this. And so the story turned upside down and I was like, well damn, that was on an M rating, wasn't it?**


End file.
